__________________________________________
If only everything that could kill your soul
came with a plainly printed warning label on it
No train ever stops here anymore
This station is empty,
The horizon, featureless:
This is the dead end of the line,
Nothing still here is living.
Blankness has claimed all our heartbeats,
Antagonism shut down our pulse.
Every emotion coming too near has been commandeered,
Wrung dry of warmth, moisture, expectation;
The causeway is littered
With faded letters and windblown ash.
Even the night here trips over its own feet
Trying to escape from its own darkness,
As if there were someplace to be going-
Because no hope will ever travel this far again.
__________________________________________
